


Fiery Hearts

by loveandwar007



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Family Drama, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwar007/pseuds/loveandwar007
Summary: To most, it's not much of a relationship, but it's theirs. And when faced with disapproval, it's the little things that say if anything comes between them, there will be hell to pay.





	Fiery Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reas_of_sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reas_of_sunshine/gifts).



> A little Jantom love for Reagan's birthday. Happy adulthood, fam!

Janna never liked to call attention to herself. Not deliberately, anyway. She wasn’t one to really speak up when a friend or loved one was in need, accepting her role as more of a listener when they needed to vent. She didn’t particularly fancy expressing intense emotion, looking back on the times she had been frightened in front of others with embarrassment. Showing anger or tears was out of the question.

It was fine. It fooled friends and family into thinking she was calm and well put together, and others who only knew her in passing to think she was a complete unfeeling bitch. Either way, Janna didn’t really care.

What she did care about was the piercing screams of her boyfriend and his father on the other side of the dense iron door, throwing muffled words back and forth that no doubt had to do with her. Janna kept her nose buried in a book she had snagged from the Underworld palace library, losing herself in the crumbling tomes of Lucitor dynasty history in order to ignore the hammering of her heart in her chest.

_The Lucitor feud with the Trolls went on for a five hundred year crusade before settling into a simmering cold war…_

Tom was fighting his father, raging on her behalf. Nobody had ever fought for her before. Nobody had ever cared enough. This was new. Janna gripped the aged leather cover tighter and forced herself to keep reading.

_It is widely believed that their alliance with Mewni’s other kingdoms, including the illustrious Butterflys, is what kept the small but mighty Troll army at bay…_

King Dave Lucitor having to watch his son go from dating the heir to the Butterfly throne to some ordinary Earth girl who only dabbled in hexes and curses for fun didn’t sit well with him. What could she possibly bring to their empire? How could she help to ensure the legacy of the kingdom long after he was gone? As usual, he was only thinking about potential marriage in the future, forgetting the fact that they were just kids. It was one of the things that drove Star and Tom apart.

Well, among other more significant things. Namely Marco Diaz. Janna didn’t even care that she was basically a rebound. If it meant she got to hang around with Tom, absorb his world, unabashedly be herself with no judgment whatsoever, it was all fine with her.

A soft roar came from across the room, and Janna nearly jumped out of her skin. She had completely forgotten the massive Queen Wrathmelior was sitting quietly on the plush red couch across from her. Ironically, she was the more level-headed of the two reigning royals, her leg crossed casually over the other as she waited for her son and husband to finish their blowout, as if this was a completely normal thing in their household. The occult-loving human girl wasn’t used to this. She led a pretty quiet life with largely absent parents, and she hated to admit that all of this shouting made her wince.

“Um…” Janna wasn’t sure what the queen had said — Tom usually translated for her. “Are they, uh, almost done in there?”

Wrathmelior didn’t respond, but a gentle exhale of steam wafted from her nostrils in what could only be interpreted as a sigh.

Janna swallowed. “Good book,” she indicated to the tome in her hands. “Really interesting. So you were the first female heir to the throne in eight centuries?”

The demon queen lowered her head into a nod, just as a crash sounded from behind the door. Janna instantly sat up, her heart in her mouth, thinking Tom might have taken the brunt of that blow. But Wrathmelior grunted, holding up a large clawed hand to stop the girl from charging into the other room.

“Yeah I know,” she replied in a husky voice. “He told me it could get ugly in there. But…” No. Janna didn’t care. It was easier not to care. But her hands on the book were still shaking. Wrathemelior patted the seat beside her, and Janna hugged it to her chest almost as a comfort as she crossed the dimly lit room to accept her invitation.

The queen opened the book to the chapter dedicated to her own legacy, the fearsome Wrathmeilor who rose above all odds to restore the Underworld to its glory days. Janna understood now: Tom had a lot to live up to. No wonder he didn’t like talking about his impending reign. But when the beastlike woman pointed to a particular passage, her jaw dropped open, eyes scanning the words before her.

“You’re kidding.” She glanced up into Wrathmelior’s glowing golden eyes. “You were a runt?” The giant woman simply nodded again and placed a large clawed hand on Janna’s beanie, rubbing her head with a gentle growl. “I get it...people didn’t think you could do much either. And you became Queen.” Was this some weird subtle way of giving her blessing? Until now, Janna really hadn't been able to tell if Tom’s mother liked her as a mate for her son or not. Well, she wasn’t charred to a crisp or torn limb from limb yet. So she guessed _that_ was a good sign.

The moan of the rusty iron door finally clanged open and Tom stormed into the room, fists smoking and eyes blazing white hot. Wrathmelior jumped up to stop him, but he slipped passed her into the corridor, so she went for her husband next, seizing Dave by the shoulders.

“You’re never allowed to talk to me that way!” the king bellowed, pointing his finger into the hallway where Tom had just disappeared. “You hear me?! I’ll throw you out faster than you can say ‘soulrise’!”

Janna remained frozen in her seat, letting the book slide from her lap onto the floor. Wrathmelior was breathing hard through her nostrils, trying to calm her seething husband, who was only a fraction of her size. And then she realized, no one was doing the same for Tom. And she _cared._

She jumped up and ran into the darkened corridor after her boyfriend, who was probably holed up in his bedroom. Luckily, due to her snooping around, she knew exactly where that was. Climbing a winding staircase so steep that her calves were screaming by the time she made it to the top, Janna hung onto the railing of the tallest west wing tower to catch her breath. _Stupid Tom. He can just levitate up here any time he wants._

Upon hearing the crashing and roars of demon rage behind the prince’s bed chamber door, she wasn’t sure if she should enter. Maybe just a quick pop-in to let him know she was there, and to call her later before she showed herself out. _Yeah, that’s the best plan._ Her fingers quaked slightly as they curled around the doorknob. _Here goes nothing._

Tom couldn’t see anything but white, fireballs shooting from his hands around his flame-retardant bedroom, already a mess of balled up clothes and broken eyeliner pencils. He couldn’t think logically. He had already tried that, making his case before his father when he announced that he and Janna were a couple. The conversation repeated in his clouded mind like a broken record:

_“She’s a good friend of Star’s. We met at her party on Stump Day a couple years ago.”_

_“She’s just an Earth human, Tom.”_

_“Yeah, but she’s funny and smart and...kinda keeps me in check, ya know? Plus she’s been practicing witchcraft for years. We’ve had witches in the family before.”_

_“She’s not a real witch! What those humans think witchcraft is hardly compares to the magic of our sister covens. That girl is so scrawny, a single transmutation spell would probably kill her!”_

_“Janna’s a lot stronger than you think, Dad! She’s stubborn, she’s fiery, she can keep up with all of us! I know she can!”_

_“I can’t allow this, Tom. I can’t allow her to become your queen and bear your children, weakening our lineage.”_

_“We’re just dating!”_

_“As you did with Princess Butterfly, fooling around like children when you are both nearly of age to assume the throne. The both of you never took this seriously either!”_

_“Because Princess Butterfly is in love with someone else --_ **_an Earth human_** _, Dad!”_

_“I can’t speak for that kingdom, I can only speak for the Lucitors! And unless by some miracle she is deemed worthy, I forbid Janna to ever become a member of this family!”_

There was a touch, a gentle sensation of fingers grazing his shoulder from behind, and Tom whipped around. Eyes ablaze, throat tearing to pieces with a booming roar, he raised his hand to strike the intruder in his room. And Janna jumped back, flinching only slightly at his clawed hand about to snatch at her face. Her amber eyes narrowed into a glare, dark lips twisting into a deep frown as she stared him down.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, fighting to keep any fear that had welled to the surface of her heart at bay. “If you lay a hand on me, you will never see me again. _Think,_ Tom.”

“Janna…” His claw-like nails receded, his hand falling limply to his side. All of a sudden he looked lost, trying desperately to get his bearings as he kept all three of his eyes fixated on Janna’s face. It somehow calmed him, despite the fact that she was glowering at him, ready to turn tail and run at even the slightest threat from him.

 _No._ He would never hurt her. Even if he had to physically fight every rage demon inside of him to prevent it, Tom would never _ever_ harm Janna.

He watched her slowly reach a hand into her inside jacket pocket and pull what looked like a dirty old rag from it. Peering closer, he realized it was a doll, which she held out to him.

“I got this thing off an online auction,” she explained, keeping her eyes fixed on his. “It’s a dud -- doesn’t work. ‘Least _I_ can’t get it to work.” She swallowed. “Wanna give it a whirl?”

Tom blinked, and his eyes returned to their normal red. What the hell was she doing? How did activating a second-hand voodoo doll have to do with _anything_ that had just happened? Was she just ignoring the fact that they were probably going to have to break up over this whole royalty thing?

Then it hit him: Janna was trying to get his mind off of it. She was giving him a task to do so he wouldn’t focus on his anger, channelling that energy into something more productive. She didn’t like to talk about feelings, and frankly neither did he. So they would either make out, smoke a cigarette, or raise someone from the dead to destress when one or both of them needed to unwind. Tonight, apparently, they were activating a voodoo doll.

Swiping it from her palm, Tom slumped over to the bed and plopped down on it, knowing full well that she was going to follow. Janna liked watching him work his magic -- probably because she had no true powers of her own to speak of. Tom, however, had been cursed with a multitude of abilities not limited to various uses of fire and raising lost souls back to life. Cupping the brown naked doll in his hands, he felt the mattress lower as his girlfriend sat close beside him. Her eyes bore into him hungrily as he shut his own, uttering an ancient incantation under his breath. One...two... _three_ painstaking tries until finally the doll glowed, outlined in red-orange.

“Damn, you’re amazing,” Janna breathed as Tom exhaled in relief, finally collapsing his shoulders once he was able to break concentration. “Seriously, thanks.”

“No problem,” his voice rattled, wiping beads of sweat that hadn’t steamed off his forehead onto the back of his wrist. “What’s that for anyway?” he asked, handing the ratty thing back to her.

“You can’t tell?” She grinned like a lawyer about to reveal the final piece of evidence to prove her client innocent. Tom watched her pull what looked like a red handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and tie it around the doll’s body. Looking closer, he saw that it was actually a miniature hoodie.

“You -- you didn’t, is -- is that really--?” he spluttered, the first smile gracing his face in hours.

“Safe Kid Diaz,” she drawled proudly, sliding closer to him on the bed and pressing the clothed voodoo doll back into his palm. Leaning in close to his ear, her warm breath tickled the side of his head as she uttered, “If you got a needle, I’ll let you have the first poke.”

Turning his face into hers, Tom let his upper fang nibble at her neck playfully, sending a shiver up Janna’s spine. “Set the scene for me first.”

“Mmm, well, you know how it goes,” she moaned, melting into the firm lilac arms that had snaked around her waist. “He and Star are probably cuddling on a balcony in Butterfly Castle, overlooking the entire kingdom. He says something about how much he loves being in love with his best friend, she says something goofy yet endearing back.”

“He says ‘you look so cute in pink’...oh no, wait.” The demon prince closed his lips over her jawline, sending a line of peppered kisses down it. “I say that to you.”

“Shut up, you’re wrecking my visuals,” she punched him in the arm, yet didn’t pull back from his pecks. “Anyways, he goes for her hand, all shy, like they’ve never frickin held hands before--”

“They do it all the time,” Tom groaned.

 _“All the time,”_ Janna repeated in exasperation. “She tries and acts all cool and in control, but in reality she’s like two seconds away from screaming _‘Be my future king!’_ Their faces get closer...Marco presses his forehead on hers...their lips are an inch apart...and then…”

“Stab!” Tom exclaimed, and Janna nearly fell off his lap. What she saw next made her laugh until tears seeped out the corners of her eyes: He had produced a needle from seemingly out of nowhere and jammed it into the doll’s crotch.

“Take it out!” she shrieked, doubling over in mirth. “You--you can’t leave it in there, he’ll--!” Whatever she was trying to say next, Tom couldn’t make out, so he grabbed her torso again and they both tumbled backwards into the sheets, positively howling with wicked laughter. Janna instantly clamped her mouth shut when she heard distant moans out in the corridor, but Tom embraced her reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, it’s just the minions patrolling the wings. They can’t come in without my permission.” Leaning over her from above in their sprawled positions, he lowered his head to hers and placed a gentle kiss on each of her cheeks. “Thanks. I mean it. Thank you.”

“You haven’t laughed in awhile,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I like hearing you laugh…” Shaking her head, Janna stopped herself before she became too lost in his deep blood red eyes. “Seriously though, you need to take that out.”

“It’s out, it’s out,” Tom insisted, tossing the doll on the mattress, now needle-free in the groin area. “Not sure if it worked though. I mean, when I get...ya know, like this, it’s harder for me to focus. It might still be a dud.”

“Still fun to imagine it, even if it didn’t work,” Janna said coyly, and Tom chuckled again.

“Is that really how this happened?"

"How what happened?"

"Us. Did we really just share this mutual love of seeing Marco suffer and go from there?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Tom sat up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees. For a moment he said nothing, and Janna arched her neck trying to get a glimpse of his face as he stared out the window at the red sky. “I dunno...it’s weird to me. I’m used to being told who I’m supposed to love. Star and I were pressured to be together since we were babies, and for the longest time I thought she was _it_ for me. I never thought people could just...drop outta the sky and surprise you.”

Janna blinked, feeling her throat tighten. Tom didn’t just indirectly say he loved her. _No way._ That wasn’t part of the plan. Hell, she didn’t even _have_ a plan. “Um…” she muttered, sliding off the other side of the bed, her boots hitting the floor, “If you’re okay now, I’m just gonna head out. Just wanted to make sure you were gonna be, ya know, safe tonight.”

“Do you wanna break up?” Tom blurted out, whirling around so she could see his pained eyes. “Before we get too involved? I-I just -- I’d rather do it now than--”

“--when the wound’s deeper,” Janna finished quietly, “And the band-aid hurts a hell of a lot more when you rip it off.” She stared at the young man across the bed, this demon prince who cared so much about her. All her life, she had been told to stop. Get rid of the old books, stop placing curses on people, no you cannot have a séance over your grandmother’s grave -- all that nagging. Tom was the only one who never looked at her funny, because it was all so completely normal to him. And contrary to her blaisé front, Janna wanted to feel normal sometimes. Even if she wasn’t.

She wasn’t normal. Neither was Tom. But she was also never willing to back down from a risk. Especially when she wanted to tackle it with her whole heart.

_Do you wanna break up?_

“No,” she finally answered. “I really, really don’t.”

Once again, Tom smiled, this time his pearly-white fangs in full view as the muscles in his face and neck relaxed. “Cool. Alright, you can go now if you want. I’ll text you later.”

Janna hastily shut her jaw, which had hung open slightly at the prince’s genuine smile. _Why is he so goddamn charming?_ she raged inwardly before straightening her rumpled clothes and spinning on her heel towards the door, formulating a plan on how to sneak around the forbidden rooms in the castle for a few hours before actually leaving.

“Hey Jan?”

She stopped, the shortened form of her name still foreign to her. “Yeah?”

“I lied. You look _beautiful_ in pink.”

She didn’t know how to handle this. The shortness of breath, her sweating palms, the way the warmth of his words wrapped around her like a fuzzy blanket and filled her body like a hot bowl of soup. The way she wanted to tell him that she did care. She cared _so much._ Everything nearly came tumbling out: How she was going to work her ass off to become a real witch, how she was bound and determined to gain his father’s approval, how she had never felt passionate about anything until this very moment -- all because of him.

But Janna had never been good at that. So she did the only thing she could do.

“Chicken butt.”

There was a thud as Tom dropped to the rug next to the bed, and Janna made a mad dash out into the hallway. Maybe now she could find out if they had John Keats’ corpse on hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are great, but comments are better :)


End file.
